


Leaving Her Behind

by impalaimagining



Series: Leaving Her Behind [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester fanfic, Dean Winchester x You - Freeform, F/M, dean winchester fanfiction, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, spn fanfic, spn fanfiction, supernatural fanfic - Freeform, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaimagining/pseuds/impalaimagining
Summary: At six years old, Dean met a girl not like the rest. Instead of pink frilly dresses, she was dressed in grass-stained jeans and an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Instead of dolls and playing house, she built model cars and watched Bobby work on the clunkers in the salvage yard. She was Dean’s dream girl, and he didn’t even like girls yet. They grew up together, she and Dean taking care of Sam when he’d get tangled up in the thorn bushes in the woods and making sure his homework was done. Dean and Y/N did everything together, spent every moment they could by one another’s side, but when Sam heads off to Stanford, everything changes.





	1. Chapter 1

 “He’s  _leaving_ , Y/N!” Dean screamed, his voice cracking as the reality set in. His little brother was leaving the only family they’d ever known.

“I  _heard you_ , Dean.” You seethed through gritted teeth as your eyes watched Dean carefully. You’d never seen him broken like this, not in all the years you’d known him, but here he was, crumbling right before you. “Dean…” You sighed, stepping forward and resting your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It - it’s not your fault.” Dean shook his head and looked down.

“I just don’t understand what that has to do with us.” You confessed. “I don’t know why you came to tell me  _Sam_  was leaving. It’s not like you’re going with him, Dean.” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Dean? You - you’re not going with Sam,  _are_  you?” 

“No, no.” Dean blurted out quickly. “I’m not going with him, but - but my dad…”

You breathed out slowly, pulling your lips into a straight line and trying to calm yourself down internally before speaking. You didn’t want to lash out on Dean, but,  _God,_ his dad was a dick sometimes. 

“What about your dad?” You treaded lightly. 

“He - he says we gotta crack down and focus on hunting now more than ever, since there’s just two of us. Wants me to clear my head and get into the right mindset.” Dean explained. 

“And that means getting rid of me.” You nodded slowly, scraping your teeth along your top lip.

“He thinks so, yeah.” Dean mumbled quietly. “I - I can try, Y/N. I can try to stay in touch and call you when he’s out or whatever. I’ll do what I can to keep this alive, I swear.”

Dean Winchester, big bad hunter, following his father’s every order, but willing to risk it all. For  _you_. 

“Dean, it - it’s okay. I understand. You have to go. It’s - he’s your dad. Don’t worry about me.” You forced a smile. “I’ll be here when you get back. Just like I always have been.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, just like you always have been.”

* * *

  _“Uncle Bobby!” Dean ran through the front door. “Where’s the-” he skidded to a halt and scowled. “Who’s she?”_

_Bobby chuckled, Dean reacting exactly how he’d expected. “This is Y/N. Her dad dropped her off here yesterday. He’s goin’ out for work, just like your dad.” Bobby explained._

_Dean’s frown deepened. “Why?”_

_“Her dad does what your Pa does, Dean.” Bobby sighed. “He makes the world safe.” He watched his wording, trying to avoid telling you, at just four years old, and Dean, at six, about all the bad things surrounding your lives.  
_

_“Oh.” Dean sneered, staring at you with furrowed brows before spinning on his . heel and hurrying into the salvage yard.  
_

_“Who she?” A toddler tugged on Dean’s shirt.  
_

_“I dunno, Sammy, but I don’t like ‘er.” Dean pouted, grabbing Sam’s hand and guiding him to one of the old beaters in the yard. You watched from the doorway as Bobby directed you to stay put and he ran after the boys._

* * *

 That wasn’t the last you’d see of the Winchesters. In fact, you’d see them more than you saw your own father, as fate would have it. It seemed like every few days, you’d leave Bobby’s house and spend a night or two in some musty old motel a couple counties away, then you’d end up sleeping on the little purple cot in the spare bedroom at the end of Bobby’s hallway. 

_“What’s she doin’ here again?” Dean scowled, his eyes running over your faded grey t-shirt._

_“Dean, be nice.” Bobby warned sternly.  
_

_Dean frowned, then pulled his brows together as he searched for a way to make it up to you. “I like your shirt.” He mumbled reluctantly.  
_

_“Thanks!” You beamed.  
_

_“Led Zeppelin is her favorite.” Bobby smiled.  
_

_“Me too!” Dean chimed with a wide grin. “Hey, do… do you wanna come play with me and Sammy in the cars?” You nodded and Dean quickly grabbed your hand, dragging you and Sam through the door.  
_

* * *

As the three of you grew up together, in and out of Bobby’s care, you and Dean grew closer, never edging Sam out, but instead becoming like his caregivers. Dean would tell him, “It’s not even that bad,” every time he’d scrape up his knee or get a splinter from falling on the old planks Bobby had laying around. You’d always be the first to run and grab a band-aid from the hall closet by the bathroom, cleaning Sam’s cuts with hydrogen peroxide and making sure the bandage was stuck fast. 

You and Dean were closer than two peas in a pod, which is what Bobby had taken to calling you. You weren’t even sure you were supposed to like boys when you turned eight years old, but something about hearing Dean Winchester sing your name in the happy birthday song made your heart flutter like a hummingbird. 

It didn’t take long for John to start pulling Dean away from you for longer and longer spans at a time. They’d be gone for four days, then back at Bobby’s - all three Winchesters - for two, then gone for over a week. The cycle repeated itself until you were sixteen. 

* * *

_“Dean, slow down!” Sam’s cracky prepubescent voice followed Dean into Bobby’s musty living room.  
_

_Dean’s boots skidded against the creaky hardwood floors. “Where is she?!”_

_“Slow down, boy.” Bobby grunted from behind his desk, never looking up from the old book his nose was buried in._

_“Where is she, Bobby?” Dean leaned his palms down on top of the pages, blocking Bobby’s view.  
_

_“Quit yellin’.” Bobby peered up at Dean under the brim of his hat. “She’s out back.”  
_

_Dean turned quickly and sprinted toward you. You were sitting in the passenger seat of a 1971 BMW 2500 sedan. He threw the door open and grabbed you, pulling you against his chest and crushing you in his arms._

_You furrowed your brows together and leaned back, looking up at him with concern. “Dean, what-”  
_

_His lips smashed against yours. Your eyes popped open, wider than they’d ever been, then your lids fell closed as you melted into the kiss. Dean held you against him, your lips moving together._

_Thirteen. You’d waited thirteen years for your first kiss, and you knew it couldn’t get any better than it was with Dean. He pulled away, leaving you only with your thoughts and a fuzzy mind._

_“What was that?” You choked out, running the pad of your thumb along your lower lip. Dean shook his head. “Dean, you can’t just storm out here and kiss me like that and then act like it was nothing.”_

_“It wasn’t nothing.” Dean admitted softly. You saw the look on his face, one of complete brokenness.  
_

_“What happened?” You reached out and touched his arm. Dean flinched away. “Dean, what happened?” You tried again.  
_

_Dean shook his head. “It - it’s fine.”_

_“Dean.” You sighed.  
_

_“Alright, alright.” He huffed. “It’s Sam.”  
_

_“What about Sam?” You pushed._

_“He kept asking questions. And Dad told me never to tell him if I could help it. Let him live a life as normal as possible. But Sam just kept_ nagging _.” Dean covered his face with his hands. “I caved, Y/N. I told him everything.”_

_You knew what that meant. Drawing your lips into a thin line, you sighed and nodded. “Show me, Dean.”_

_“Show you what?” Dean played dumb, not looking into your eyes._

_“Damn it, Dean.” You grabbed his shirt, pushing it up his torso until it caught on his armpits. “Jesus…” You breathed as your eyes raked over the bruises and welts along Dean’s ribs.  
_

_“Stop, Y/N.” Dean tore himself away from you, shoving his shirt back down._

_“Dean, this is - this is bad. You need to show Bobby or get to a hospital or something.” You took a cautious step toward him.  
_

_“I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not showing anyone. And you’re not going to tell Bobby either, got it?” Dean pointed a stern finger at you._

_You gave a nod. It was just another secret between you and Dean._

* * *

_Three years later, Dean had just come back from a few months at somewhere he kept referring to as Sonny’s. The day he returned to Bobby’s house, you were hidden away in your room, deep in the lore for the case you swore to your father you wouldn’t touch, but Bobby needed help. He was working double duty, trying to help John on cases that Dean wasn’t around for._

_A soft knock on your door pulled your nose from the book. “Yeah?” You looked up, expecting to see Bobby in the doorway. “Dean!” You jumped up and ran to him, throwing your arms and legs around him. “God, I missed you.” You pulled back and kissed him deeply._

_“I missed you too.” He chuckled, hugging you tightly. Dean’s hands stayed on your back, holding your hips as your feet settled back onto the floor._

_You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him again. Your fingers twisted into the short hairs on the back of his head. Before you could realize what was happening, Dean had you back against your bed. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, you backed yourself up to the pillows and laid on your back. Dean hovered over you cautiously.  
_

_“Dean?” You looked up at him, a new look in your eyes. “It’s okay.”  
_

_“A- are you sure?” Dean stammered, his cheeks flushed bright pink with nervousness.  
_

_“Never been more sure of anything.” You laid a hand on his cheek and brought his lips to yours again.  
_

* * *

It’d been just under four years since Sam left for Stanford, and Dean had kept his word - mostly. There were a few months here and there when you wouldn’t hear from him, but he always came back.

“Y/N, I need you to hear me out.” Dean’s voice was shaky, and it terrified you. 

“I’m listening.” You sat down on the scratchy couch in Bobby’s living room. 

“I gotta go get Sam.” He blurted. 

“You have to  _what_?” Your eyes bulged out of your head.

“Dad’s gone.” Dean looked down. “He’s been gone for almost a week, not a word.”

“Do you know how often  _you_  disappeared for weeks without a word, Dean?” You stood up, stepping toward him. 

“This is different.” Dean shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” You pursed your lips and turned away from him. “Go, Dean. Go do what you need to do to be Daddy’s perfect little soldier.”

“Y/N, don’t do that.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, reaching out with his other hand and grabbing your arm. He spun you around and watched as tears streamed down your cheeks. “Don’t…” Dean cleared his throat, blinking back his own tears.

“Don’t what, Dean? It’s  _always_  been like this. You come back when  _you_  need  _me_ , but what about when I need you? You’re always running off to save your dad’s ass or disappearing into the night with him, without so much as a goodbye for me. Damn it, Dean. I love you!” You shouted tearfully. 

“I…” Dean swallowed hard as his hand fell from your arm. “I need to leave.”

Dean vanished through the front door, the sound of it closing behind him haunting you as you watched the taillights of the Impala disappear into the dark horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own the rights to the dialogue from the show.

“Dean?” Sam squinted into the darkness. Dean just laughed. “You scared the crap out of me!”  

Dean grinned. “That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.” Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and yanked him, flipping him and pinning him down. Dean breathed a laugh. “Or not. Get off me.”

Sam moved swiftly to his feet, anchoring himself before pulling Dean up by the hand. They stood, looking at one another. “Dean, what the hell are you doing here?” 

Dean slapped Sam on his shoulders, shaking his frame and grinning. “Well, I was looking for a beer.”

The light flicked on, startling them both. “Sam?” Jess called into the room, her eyes barely open.

Both Dean and Sam whipped their heads toward the doorway. “Jess,” Sam inhaled through his nose, “hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Dean nodded, his tongue poking out and tracing over his bottom lip.

“Wait, your brother Dean?” Jess pointed.

“I love the Smurfs.” Dean smirked. “You know, I gotta tell you, you are  _completely_  out of my brother’s league.” He stepped toward Jess.

“Just, let me put something on.” Jess laughed nervously.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean took in a breath as he looked into Jessica’s eyes, “seriously.” Jess pursed her lips and looked beyond Dean, to Sam. “Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here to talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meetin’ you.” He smiled a dimply grin and pointed to her. Jess sighed, locking her eyes with Sam’s.

“No,” Sam stepped to Jess in a single stride, lacing his arm around her waist, “no, whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her.”

Dean turned to face them. “Okay, um. Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam rolled his eyes a bit. “So he’s working overtime on a Miller time shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.” He nodded.

Dean looked down, pursing his lips before meeting Sam’s eyes again. “Dad’s on a  _hunting trip,_ and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” 

Sam’s face turned to stone. “Jess, excuse us.” He and Dean disappeared out the door. “I mean, come on. You can’t just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.”

“You’re not hearin’ me, Sammy.” Dean glanced back over his shoulder. “Dad’s missing. I need you to help me find him.”

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil’s Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He’s always missing, and he’s always fine.” Sam chided.

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?” Dean furrowed his brows.

Sam raised his brows. “I’m not.”

“Why not?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I  _swore_  I was done hunting. For good.” Sam stood his ground. “Take Y/N with you.”

Dean didn’t know what he’d expected Sam to say, but it wasn’t that. “Wh- what?”

“I said, take Y/N with you.” Sam repeated.

“I - I can’t take her with me, Sammy.” Dean stuttered.

“Is she okay?” Sam frowned.

“I don’t - I - she’s at Bobby’s.” Dean stammered. 

“Well, go get her.” Sam reasoned.

Dean closed his eyes and licked his lips. “I  _left_  her at Bobby’s, Sam.” He sighed.

“You  _what_?” Sam’s eyes went wide.

“Forget it. Listen to this.” Dean pulled out his phone and played the voicemail John had left him.

Sam concentrated, his eyes closing as the static crackled on the recording. “You know there’s EVP on that?”

Dean smiled proudly. “Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Sam shook his head. “So, you in?”

“Alright, yeah, I’ll go.” Sam nodded once. Dean threw everything back into the trunk and slammed it shut. “Where’re we headin’?”

* * *

You sat in your room at Bobby’s, staring at the hardwood floor, counting the lines in the woodgrain. 

“Y/N?” Bobby knocked on the door with a single knuckle.

“Yeah, come in.” You deadpanned, not looking up. 

“Dean gave me a call earlier. Told me to watch after you. Somethin’ I should know, kid?” Bobby raised his brows at you.

“No.” You snipped.

“You wanna try that again?” He retorted.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Uncle Bobby.”

Bobby huffed. “Dean wouldn’t call me and tell me to keep an eye on you for no reason. What happened?”

“I don’t know why the hell he’s worried about me now.” You scoffed. “He wasn’t when he decided to drop me to appease his father.”

“He what?” Bobby coerced.

“You heard me. John went missing, apparently.” You rolled your eyes. “Like he hasn’t ever pulled this shit before.”

“John’s missing, so Dean went and got Sam so the two of them could save the damn day again. Go pull John from his whiskey soaked sulking and bring him back here so they can get into a screaming match.” You huffed. “Sam’s been gone for close to four years, but I can guarantee you, nothing’s changed between any of them. They’re all so  _damn_  stubborn.”

Bobby hummed a breathy laugh. “Well, nobody can say you weren’t an observant little brat.” He gave you a smile. “I know Dean and you had somethin’ special. Everything okay on that front?”

“No offense, Uncle Bobby, but I’m not gonna talk to you about my relationship.” You let out a little giggle.

“I don’t want to  _know_  about your relationship. I just want to know if you’re okay.” Bobby shrugged. 

“I’ll be fine.” You dismissed. Bobby eyed you suspiciously. “Did you know the board under your right foot has twenty-seven lines on it?”

“Alright, you need some air. Come on.” Bobby grabbed your upper arm and pulled you from the room.

* * *

Dean glanced at his watch as his hand rested on the steering wheel. He and Sam had wrapped up the case in Jericho and Dean had returned Sam to his apartment Sunday night, just in time for his interview on Monday. 

Dean’s brow furrowed, the second hand on his watch stuck in place. He looked up at the road, eyes wide with realization, and pulled a quick U-turn, tires squealing as he made his way back to Sam.

Dean kicked the door in, shoving his way into Sam’s apartment, calling out his name. He found Sam, screaming up at a fiery version of what  _was_  Jessica. Dean ripped Sam from the bed and dragged him outside. Firetrucks and policemen came to the scene, an ambulance carrying Jessica’s charred remains away in a black bag. 

Sam stood at the back of the Impala, cocking and loading a shotgun as Dean walked over to him.

“Hey. How you doin’?” Dean’s eyes flicked up to Sam, worried.

Sam looked up, sighing as he tossed the shotgun into the trunk. “I’m fine.” He shrugged it off, not daring to look at Dean. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

It’d been nine months since you’d heard from Dean, so seeing his name on your phone screen threw you off more than any hunt you’d ever been on. You debated answering it as you drove down the long stretch of road. 

“Hello.” You all but barked into the phone. 

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice filled your ear.

“Sammy?” You pulled over immediately.

“Hey, I - I’m glad you answered.” Sam cleared his throat, trying to cover the break in his voice. “It’s, um - it’s Dean.” 

“Sam, what happened?”

* * *

You were back in Sioux Falls almost an hour before you should’ve been according to every law of physics and speed limit sign along the way. You ran in through the automatic glass doors, slamming your palms down on the front desk.

“Can we… help you, ma’am?” The women behind the desk gave one another a look before their eyes moved to you again.

“McGillicuddy.” You spat. “I need to know which room he’s in.”

The woman raised her brows and clicked a few letters on the keyboard. “There are two McGillicuddy’s here, ma’am.”

“Which rooms? They’re related, right? Where are they?” You blurted, panic taking over inside of you. 

“327 and 315.” She furrowed her brows. “You should know - the younger of the two is in critical condition, ma’am.”

You swallowed around the newly formed lump in your throat. “Thank you.” You croaked out, bolting for the elevator.

When the elevator chimed, signaling you’d reached the third floor, you didn’t even wait for the doors to open all the way. You let them slide apart just enough for you to slip between them, sideways, and sprinted down the hall to room 315. You skidded into the room, stopping immediately when your eyes met John’s. 

“Y/N?” His gruff voice saying your name made your blood boil. If there was one person on the earth you wouldn’t mind dying, it was John Winchester.

“Where’s Dean?” You ignored John entirely.

“Little ways down the hall.” John deadpanned, pointing in the direction of Dean’s room. You spun on your heel and bee-lined for 327. 

“Y/N…” Sam breathed, his voice shaking as he spoke your name. Tears filled his eyes. 

“Oh, Sammy.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, running your thumb under his right eye. “You’re all banged up too.” Giving him a sympathetic smile, you opened your arms and wrapped them around him, the size of Sam’s towering frame still surprising you. He’d been taller than you for quite some time, but it’d been over four years since you’d hugged him. Tears welled in your eyes as you felt Sam’s body shaking with silent sobs. “What did they say?” You rubbed between his shoulder blades. 

Sam pulled away, breathing in and composing himself, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand carefully. “They’re keeping him comfortable.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Keeping him comfortable. You knew what that meant. Dean was dying. “Has he been awake at all?” Sam shook his head. “Shit.”

“They think he can hear us. Maybe… maybe you could talk to him and see if he wakes up.” Sam suggested.

You nodded and took a tentative step toward the bed, laying your hand on top of Dean’s and looking at Sam. He stepped outside and made his way to the hospital cafeteria. “Dean…” You whispered. You swore, under your hand, Dean’s fingers twitched. Gasping, you squeezed his hand. “Dean, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you knew the twitch was in your mind.

Sam came back a little while later, a brown bag tucked under his arm as he closed the door. “Don’t make fun of me.” He warned.

You looked up at him, brows furrowed. “What are you doing?” Your eyes followed him as he sat on the floor. He pulled a box from the bag. “Sammy…” You shook your head. “What the hell?” 

“I think he’s here.” Sam bit his lip nervously. “And I think he might be able to talk to us like this.”

“I…” You shook your head again, narrowing your eyes skeptically. “I don’t know if this is gonna work,” you sighed, sinking down beside Sam, “but it’s worth a shot.”

Sam unboxed the talking board and placed two fingers from each hand on the pointer. He waited for you to follow suit, then looked around the room. “Dean. Dean, are you here?” Sam swallowed hard, watching the piece sitting in the middle of the board. After a few seconds, Sam’s mouth fell open as the pointer began moving, eventually falling on ‘yes.’ Sam gave a breathy laugh as he relaxed his shoulders and looked at you. “It’s good to hear from you, man. It hasn’t been the same without you, Dean.”

You looked at Sam and frowned. “What’s going on?” 

Sam shrugged you off as the pointer began moving again. “Dean, what? H? U? Hunt? What? Hunting? Are you hunting?”

“He’s hunting.” You smiled, shaking your head as the piece landed on ‘yes’ again. “Of course he is.”

“Shh.” Sam scolded, returning his attention to the board. “Dean. It’s in the hospital, what you’re hunting? Do, do you know what it is?” He paused, shaking his head quickly. “What is it?” The game spelled out the word, and Sam’s heart sank in his chest. “A reaper. Dean… is it after you?” He didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had to. Sam’s heart pounded as the pointer moved back to ‘yes.’

You and Sam both let out a breath, looking at each other. “Sam,” you shook your head, frowning, “if it’s here naturally-”

“There’s no way to stop it.” He finished the sentence in unison with you as you nodded. “Man, you’re, um…” Sam couldn’t bring himself to say it. He brought his hand to his face, running it down over his lips and chin.

“No, there’s gotta be a way.” You insisted, standing up and pacing before running back to the side of Dean’s bed and taking his hand again. 

Sam began pacing, following your same path around the small room. “Dad’ll know what to do.” Sam left the room and you groaned. The last thing you wanted was to trust  _John_  with Dean’s life.

* * *

After grabbing lunch with Sam in the cafeteria, he told you to finish up on your own and he’d see you back upstairs in a bit. You nodded, letting him get some time with his brother. You finished eating not long after Sam left, so you made your way to the elevator and back up to Dean’s room. From the hallway, you listened as Sam told Dean he couldn’t find anything to help him, but he wouldn’t give up.

Sam tried to joke, but the air quickly became heavy as Sam realized he could very well be speaking his last words to Dean. “Dean, you gotta hold on. You can’t go, man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again.”

Your heart shattered as you choked back a sob, but it wasn’t as quiet as you wanted it to be. Sam hurried into the hall, grabbing you and pulling you into a tearful hug. “I’m sorry I was eavesdropping.” You managed between gasps for air. 

Sam shook his head and ran his hand over your hair. “It’s okay, I know how much it hurts to think about losing him.” Sam gulped, his tears falling onto your head. “I know how much you love him.”

You and Sam made your way back into Dean’s room after the two of you held one another and cried at what felt like the inevitable loss of the man you both loved. You sat at his bedside, where you swore to yourself you’d stay until his heart stopped beating. Sam stood beside you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on Dean’s. You opened your mouth to say something, but just as you did, Dean gasped and his eyes popped open as he began choking on the tube in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” Sam ran to the hallway as you sat there and held Dean’s hand.

* * *

The next day, all of Dean’s tubes were removed and he was sitting up, breathing and eating like any other day.

“You’ve gotta have some kind of angel watchin’ over you.” The doctor closed his clipboard and walked toward the door.

“Thanks, Doc.” Dean rasped, arm laying over his chest. He looked up at Sam. “So, you said a reaper was after me?” 

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, smiling a bit.

“How’d I ditch it?” Dean’s eyes flicked to you briefly.

“You got me. Dean, you really don’t remember anything.” It wasn’t a question, but Dean treated it like one.

“No, except this,” Dean shifted uncomfortably as he watched you carefully, “pit in my stomach.” He looked up at Sam again. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

John knocked on the door before the conversation could go any further. “How ya feelin’, dude?” He looked at Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I’m alive.”

John smiled at that. “That’s what matters.”

“Where were you last night?” Sam asking accusingly. 

John’s eyes slowly moved to Sam as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat in the opposite corner of the room. “I had some things to take care of.” John dismissed.

Sam closed his eyes. “Well, that’s specific.”

Dean turned to Sam as he sighed. “Come on, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes stayed locked on John. “Did you go after the demon?” He nodded knowingly.

John shook his head and looked down, setting his jaw. “No.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You know, why don’t I believe you right now?” Dean closed his eyes and let out an aggravated breath.

John stepped into the room, rather than just lingering in the doorway. He glanced at Dean before locking eyes with Sam and taking a deep breath. “Can we not fight?” John pleaded. Sam’s brows pulled together slightly. “You know, half the time we’re fighting, I don’t know what we’re fighting about. We’re just butting heads.” You watched the realization wash over Sam’s face. “Sammy, I’ve - I’ve made some mistakes.” Dean met your gaze, sharing a look that held a lifetime worth of secrets and unspoken words, then he looked at his father again. “But I’ve always done the best I could. I just don’t want to fight anymore, okay?” John’s chin and lower lip quivered as tears brimmed his eyes.

“Dad, are you alright?” Sam eyed his father suspiciously, worriedly, even. 

John forced a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just a little tired.” He laughed humorlessly as Sam nodded. “Hey, son, would you, uh - would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

Sam nodded, worry still contorting his features. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Sam and Dean looked at one another. “Y/N, you, uh - you wanna…?” He trailed off, motioning with his head for you to follow him. You nodded, standing up and leaving the room on Sam’s tail.

* * *

It took longer than you’d have liked to get the coffee, but you got it after a few screw-ups behind the counter. You and Sam made your way back upstairs, you heading to Dean’s room with one of those prepackaged pies from the vending machine. He probably wasn’t  _supposed_  to be eating it after just having woken up from a near death coma, but damn if he didn’t deserve it.

Sam stopped off at John’s room, watching as you disappeared into Dean’s. He smiled and shook his head, happy to see the two of you back together, or at least on speaking terms. As Sam turned to face John, his eyes fell to the heap on the floor. 

“Dad!” Sam scrambled to John’s body, dropping the fresh cup of coffee on the tiles below him. Sam’s desperate cries for help echoed through the hall. You shot to your feet after helping Dean out of bed. The two of you sprinted through the hall, following the sounds of Sam’s screaming.

* * *

_"Time of death, 10:41am.”_

“He’s dead.” Dean breathed, eyes locked on his little brother. Sam turned over his shoulder and met Dean’s stare. “Sammy…” Dean shook his head. Tears welled in both brothers’ eyes and they fell into each other’s embrace.

You weren’t sure what you could add to the situation, so you quietly tucked yourself back into Dean’s hospital room. You sat there, mindlessly picking apart a styrofoam cup and throwing the little pieces toward another plastic cup, seeing if you could get them in.

“Y/N?” Dean’s broken voice came from the doorway.

You looked up and met his bloodshot eyes. “Dean…” You stood, walking to him and standing toe-to-toe. “Dean, I-” You were cut off when his lips smashed against yours. You resisted at first, still unbelievably mad at the way he’d just left you, but you couldn’t help the way you melted right back into Dean. Dean’s tears spilled down his face, mingling on your lips and turning the kiss salty. “Dean.” You whispered as you pulled back.

Reaching up, you laid a hand on the side of his face and looked into his eyes. Dean laid his hand over yours, holding your fingers. “We have to burn him, Y/N.”

“I’ll be there.” You nodded. “Always.”

Dean nodded back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and walking down the hallway with you. “Let’s get out of here first, okay?”

* * *

The fire whipped and crackled around John’s body, salted and doused in kerosene. Tears streamed down Sam’s face, his sniffles catching in the night air. Dean stood, stone-faced and mesmerized by the way the flames licked at his father’s corpse. 

You stood by Dean’s side, arm laced into his, leaning against his shoulder to remind him you were there. He quickly shook you off and reminded Sam to cover the ashes with dirt when the flame finally burned out, walking away. Your eyes followed Dean until he disappeared into the darkness of the night, then you looked at Sam. 

“What are we gonna do, kid?” You stepped toward him and leaned on his shoulder. 

Sam laid his arm over you, squeezing you into a little side hug. “I don’t know, but we’ve gotta get it figured out. And soon.” Sam glanced down at you as you nodded.

Both of you knew what John’s death would do to Dean, but neither of you could’ve imagined how far he’d take it.

* * *

You listened from Bobby’s kitchen as Sam and Dean talked, about John, about grieving, about how neither one of them were okay. As Sam walked in through the back door, your father came barreling through the front. 

“Y/N. Now.” He demanded, pointing to the door as he spun on his heel and turned right back around, leaving the house just as quickly as he entered.

Your eyes went wide, never knowing how to react to his moods like this. You looked at Bobby, who just shrugged. Turning to Sam, you managed a tight smile. “Tell Dean I’ll be right back?” Sam nodded at your request.

You didn’t come right back. You didn’t come back at all. Your dad ripped you away from the Winchesters and from your Uncle Bobby, away from all you’d ever known, because  _he_  needed help on a hunt. Your father swore up, down, and sideways that the Winchesters were nothing but trouble. He found out about John’s sudden death, and he knew that if John Winchester had died, you were in trouble too, just by being around Sam and Dean.

* * *

You spent years hunting with and without your father, calling Bobby every now and then to let him know you were okay. You tried to call Dean, but he never answered, and then his number was disconnected. You knew how horrible you seemed for what you did, but you couldn’t change the past and you knew that. 

One day, while you were checking your post office box, you frowned as you came across an intricate envelope with a wax seal. You pulled your little knife from your pocket and sliced through the envelope, pulling out the contents.

“A wedding invitation?” You laughed to yourself. “Who the hell…” Your eyes skimmed the information. It was a friend you’d made your senior year of high school. Blake’s parents had dropped him off at Bobby’s just as often as your dad did. 

 _Poor Bobby. Always gettin’ stuck with all the kids._  You thought.

Blake’s wedding was only a week away by the time you received the invitation. After a fight with your dad about why you should or shouldn’t go, you hot wired a car -  _thanks, Dean_  - and took off for Kentucky. 

The ceremony was nice, although you decided you never needed to see another piece of burlap in your life. As Blake and his new wife exited the barn, you and the rest of the guests filed out behind them, heading for cocktail hour. You leaned against the bar, reading the list of mixed drinks they were offering.

You smiled at the bartender as he asked you what he could mix up for you. “I’ll actually just take a-”

“Whiskey. She’ll take a whiskey. Double, make it neat.” A familiar voice sounded beside you.

You turned, ready to tell off the man who so rudely and misogynistically stepped in to order your drink for you. You drew in a deep breath, preparing for your fight, but the air left your lungs as your eyes met the shining emerald eyes you grew up falling in love with. You swallowed hard and choked out his name for the first time in eleven years. “Dean?”


	3. Leaving Her Behind

“W- what the hell? Dean?” You stammered, staring into his eyes.

“Ma’am, would you like a whiskey?” The bartender asked, but you just nodded and waved him off.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded.

“You don’t remember all of us hangin’ out together back in the day? Blake, Sammy, you, and me?” Dean smiled fondly at the memory.

“Of course I do, but I didn’t know you and Blake stayed in touch.” You shook your head.

Dean nodded, sipping his own glass of liquor. “Hell yeah we did. Worked with him a few times. I just can’t believe he’s gettin’ married.”

“Got married.” You corrected.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Of course.  _Got_  married.”

Your glass of whiskey was set in front of you, and you thanked the bartender with a smile before turning back to Dean. “Where’re you sittin’? Sam here?”  Shifting uncomfortably, Dean nodded in the direction of his seat. “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Nothing, just didn’t think you’d want to even look at me let alone walk back to my table.” Dean shrugged.

“Dean…” You sighed, looking down and swirling your booze in the glass. “We should talk, but not here, not now. What’d ya say we just enjoy today for Blake and later tonight, you and I can sit down together?”

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before nodding slowly. “C’mon. Sam’ll be happy to see you too.”

* * *

You and the Winchesters fell back into what seemed pretty normal, despite the fact that you were almost positive every single person around you had a full clip and pistol on their hip. By the end of the night, Sam had you twirling around the dance floor, head buzzing with the excitement of being back with the two of them along with the whiskey pumping through your veins.

“My turn.” Dean cut in, pushing his brother to the side as a slower song started. Dean took your hand in one of his, while his other palm settled on your hip. “You look great, you know that?” He slurred.

You shook your head. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re drunk.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the damn truth, Y/N. I missed the hell out of you.” Dean began swaying, slightly off beat. 

“You - you’re off.” You tried. “Let me lead.” 

“Hell no.” Dean protested. “I know how to dance.”

“ _How_?” You teased. “Did Sammy teach ya?”

“Shut up.” Dean narrowed his eyes at you, trying to bite back his smile. He adjusted his steps, falling into the rhythm and spinning you around slowly. You leaned your head against his chest and closed your eyes, listening to the beat of his heart. “I did miss you.” Dean murmured against the top of your head.

“I missed you too.” You looked up at him. “I’m sorry for the way things ended.” You sighed.

“You know, I wasn’t going to bring it up.” Dean licked his lips. “But…”

“But since I’m talking about it, you want to know?” You nodded knowingly. “Yeah, I’ll explain. Just…” You held onto Dean tighter and leaned against his firm chest again. “After this song.”

* * *

You’d explained everything, telling Dean how you never wanted to leave, but you didn’t have a choice. Your father dragged you away, banning you from any contact with the Winchesters. He didn’t know about the phone calls you made to Bobby, or all the times you tried to call Dean. You told him about the life you lived with your father, the way your dad trained you to be nothing more than a soldier. 

“Just like Dad did with you after I left.” Sam glanced at Dean, who only nodded, listening intently to every word coming from your lips.

“So, yeah, last week, I got the invite. Called Blake and apologized for not checking the box sooner, for not making the RSVP date.” You shrugged. “And now, here I am.”

“Yeah, here you are.” Dean breathed, his eyes falling from your eyes to linger on your lips momentarily.

“Dean, I’m…” You shook your head, fighting back tears.

“I’m gonna go grab another drink.” Sam excused himself, clearing his throat.

“Make it a round, Sammy.” Dean called after him, earning a quick wave of Sam’s hand in acknowledgement.

“You don’t have to say sorry.” Dean laid his hand on your knee and you jumped at the contact.

“I do, Dean. I  _am_  sorry. I’m so,  _so_  sorry about the way I left things. You needed me. Your father had just-”

“Don’t.” He shook his head and moved his hand from your knee to hold your hand in your lap. “I forgive you.” Dean’s fingers tightened around your hand.

Sam returned cautiously with three glasses of whiskey, holding two out to you and Dean and noticing the two of you holding hands. Sam gave Dean a little smile, and Dean just nodded, a grin plastered on his own face as he raised his glass.

“To old friends.” Dean proposed, waiting for you and Sam to clink your glasses with his. 

“To old friends.” You whispered, bringing the glass to your lips.

* * *

“Old friends” probably shouldn’t have fallen into bed together the way you and Dean did that night. The two of you tore at each other’s clothes, your dress falling off more easily than his suit. You cursed each button as your fingers plucked them apart. Once they were all finally undone, you pushed his white shirt back off his shoulders. 

“Jesus…” You breathed, eyes unabashedly raking over his body. “How the fuck did you get better with age?”

“Fine wine.” Dean wiggled his brows. “I could ask you the same thing.” His hands fell to rest on your hips. “You’re beautiful.”

You blushed at his words, eyes falling to the sliver of floor between the two of you. “I’m scarred to hell, Dean.” You dragged his fingers up to the gashes of risen skin at your ribcage. “Werewolf a couple months back.” You shifted and pulled your hair away from your shoulder, revealing a jagged mark. “Vetala four and a half years ago.”

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips against your skin, right on top of the scars. “Beautiful.” He murmured.

You tilted your head to the opposite side, granting Dean more access to your skin. “Dean…” You breathed, reaching down and laying your hands on his forearms, encircling your waist.

That was far from the last time his name fell from your lips that night. Dean made you remember every single reason you’d ever loved him. He became the Dean you knew, the Dean who cared and protected you, who made you feel perfectly secure, no matter the circumstances, who showed you rather than telling you how much you meant to him.

As you curled into Dean’s side, your head fell to his bare chest and you listened to the steady thud of his heart under your ear. Dean hummed and kissed the top of your head, grabbing your hand gently.

“You know something?” He prompted.

Too drowsy to even speak, you just breathed a response. “Hmm?”

“A lot has happened since I last saw you.” Dean ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Died a couple times, killed a bunch of mean sons a bitches, but…” he huffed out a nervous laugh, “but all those times I died, you wanna know the one thing I couldn’t shake?”

You frowned, looking up at him, chin resting on his chest. “What’s that?”

“I couldn’t let myself die peacefully.” Dean scoffed. “Not without seeing you again.”

There it was. Dean Winchester had missed you just as much as you missed him. He’d  _died_  and come back because, among other reasons, you were sure, he couldn’t die without you in his life. He couldn’t go in peace. Without you, Dean was stuck in the in between space, not living, but his spirit not quite dead. 

Dean Winchester needed you.

* * *

“Sammy!” Dean cried out, watching his brother fall to the floor.

“Dean.” You called out, bringing his attention back to the hunt. “We gotta get them before they get us.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” You knew that voice. The smile that accompanied it, however, was something more sinister than you’d ever seen.

“No.” You breathed. “No, no, no. Dad!” You searched frantically, trying to find the body. “You son of a bitch! Where is he?” You threw yourself at the ghoul, a mirror image of your father, and held a blade to his neck. “Where,” you clenched your jaw, “is my father?”

“Oh, honey.” The monster grinned. “Daddy is long gone. You should’ve never left him behind all those months ago, especially not for the  _Winchesters_. If it’s any consolation, we made sure he fed a whole bunch of us.”

“It’s  _not_.” You pushed the blade harder against his throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him. Not looking like this. “Dean…” Your voice broke.

Dean was behind you instantly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the knife and letting you step away. “I’ve got it. Go get Sammy.” You nodded and turned away, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. You tried to block it out, but the sound of the knife slicing through flesh seemed amplified somehow, with the new knowledge that your father had been killed. 

Crouching beside Sam, you ran your hand over his forehead and cleared your throat. “Hey, Sammy. It’s okay. We’re gonna get you all patched up.” You soothed.

Sam let out a groan and winced as you tied torn pieces of your shirt around his arms. “How the hell did I let this happen  _again_?” He hissed, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Take it easy.” You ignored his question, unsure of what exactly he was talking about.

Dean’s boots thudded against the floor as he made his way back to you and helped you lift Sam and walk him to the car. You opened the door and slid in, all the way to the opposite side of the back seat. Dean eased Sam down to lay with his head on your lap, knees bent as Dean tucked his feet into the car. 

“Stay with us, Sammy.” Dean called, slamming his door and turning over the engine. 

The three of you were back in a musty motel room within ten minutes, Dean’s foot never leaving the accelerator. He dragged Sam from the car into the room and laid him across the bed.

“Don’t move.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” Sam forced a laugh. 

You sat beside him and gingerly removed the ripped pieces of fabric from his wounds, the blood making them sticky and more painful than they should’ve been. “I’m sorry.” You grimaced, trying to be gentle.

“Take the other arm.” Dean instructed, tapping your upper arm lightly to urge you to move. You hurried to the other side of the bed and let Dean get to work on stitching Sam’s right forearm.

“Jesus!” Sam grit out as whiskey ran over the gash.

“Hey, easy.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “You know he has to do this.” Sam nodded, his jaw clenched hard. His muscles tightened reflexively as Dean ran the needle through his skin. You did your best to keep Sam’s eyes on you, removing the fabric from his left arm. “We’re gonna fix you up good as new. It’s - it’s not even that bad, Sammy.” At the same second you spared a quick look at Dean, he glanced at you through long lashes and gave a small smile.

* * *

_“It’s not even that bad, Sammy.” You promised, kneeling beside him where he’d slid off the hood of an old clunker in Bobby’s salvage yard. “Look at me, don’t look at your hands, okay?”_

_Sam nodded. The car wasn’t lifted very high off the ground, but for a four-year-old Sam, it was high enough to scare the hell out of him. His palms were brush burned, rocks digging into his skin from where he’d caught himself. The knees in his jeans had ripped along the gravel, exposing his skin as the sharp rocks tore at it._

_“Dean’s coming right back, okay? Then we’re gonna get you all fixed up. Good as new.” You tried to comfort him with a smile. Sam gave another tearful nod as his eyes searched for Dean.  
_

_Dean returned with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic cream, and a box of band-aids. You each took one side, carefully plucking the tiny stones from Sam’s skin before running peroxide over the cuts and bandaging him up._

_“Feelin’ better?” Dean smiled reassuringly. Sam sniffled and nodded, wiping his eyes and nose on the back of his hand. “Good, let’s get you some lunch, yeah?” He positioned Sam so he was facing the house and pushed him gently toward it._

_You were hurrying to pick up the band-aid wrappers and gather everything Dean had brought out, not wanting to leave a mess for Bobby to clean up later. You felt eyes on you, so you looked up slowly to find Dean watching your every move. “What?” You stood up, brows furrowed.  
_

_Dean threw his arm over your shoulder and brought his opposite hand up to ruffle your hair. “We make a pretty good team, you know.”  
_

* * *

“We make a pretty good team, you know.” Dean bit his lip, pulling his eyes away from you as he tied off the stitches.

You smiled fondly, knowing exactly when he’d started telling you that. “Yeah, we’re not bad.” You stepped aside, letting him start cleaning and stitching the wound on Sam’s left arm. “Hey, Sammy?” You settled on the bed between Sam’s feet as he hummed, trying to ignore the pain. “You said earlier, you can’t believe this happened again?”

Sam grunted and nodded. “Not my first go ‘round with ghouls. I just don’t know how I let them get the best of me  _twice_.”

“Same thing happened a while back.” Dean informed you, not looking up from his work. “Sammy got all tied up and used as dinner. If it weren’t for the whole slicing him open thing, I think he would’a liked it.”

“Ha-ha.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they’ve gotten me before. Like Dean said, tied me up and tried to bleed me dry.” He flinched, both at the pain of the stitches and at the memory.

You nodded, allowing that to be the end of the conversation. You sat back and watched Dean work, carefully but quickly. His stitches were better than most you’d seen done by medical professionals. The thought made you frown. Dean had practice. How many times had he stitched himself up? Or Sam? In the eleven years since you’d seen them, what kind of hell had they been through?

“All done, kid.” Dean patted Sam’s upper arm. “Get some sleep.” Sam nodded, rolling over and flicking off the bedside lamp before getting under the blankets and drifting off.

You stood and made your way to the bathroom. “I’m gonna grab a shower, if that’s okay.” You looked at Dean.

“Yeah, just don’t use all the hot water.” He smirked. 

Biting your lip, you toyed with the idea in your head. Did you really want to shower with Dean? Would it be  _just_  a shower?

“Hey.” You called out, your mouth opening before you could stop yourself. “Come with me.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Wh- what?” He cleared his throat, stepping closer to you.

You nodded. “Come with me. I don’t,” you swallowed, a lump suddenly forming in your throat, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” The image of your father’s body, lying somewhere completely alone, beaten and bloodied, was haunting you more than you cared to admit. Tears welled in your eyes, so you looked down, but Dean knew. 

He was at your side, pulling you into his embrace and running his hand up and down your back. “It’s alright, you’re not alone.” He murmured against your temple. “Let’s get you washed up.”

Dean guided you to the bathroom, carefully and innocently helping you undress while the water warmed up. Once the two of you were stripped down, Dean pulled back the cheap beige curtain and held your hand as you stepped into the shower. He followed you closely, bringing you back against his chest while the hot spray ran over your back.

You cried while Dean held you, clutching at his bare chest in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. You didn’t want it to be reality, but it was. Your father was dead, and every word the ghoul had said about you leaving him behind echoed in your memory. 

“Tip your head back for me.” Dean instructed quietly. You obeyed, letting the water wash over your hair while Dean grabbed the shampoo. “Close your eyes.” He worked his fingers over your scalp and massaged the suds through your locks. You relished in the feeling, letting out a soft groan as he rinsed and conditioned your hair, combing his fingers through it.

Once both of you had washed the day away, Dean reached forward and turned the water off, handing you a towel. You thanked him and stepped out, wrapping the towel around your chest and waiting for him. You and Dean made your way back into the room together, Dean going for his duffel while you perched yourself on the edge of the bed. 

“Dean?” You whispered, making him look up at you. “D- don’t get dressed.” You requested. He raised a brow at you curiously. Peeling back the covers, you dropped your towel beside the bed and crawled in, beckoning him to join you.

“Sam is right there…” Dean stepped toward you cautiously, discarding his own towel on the floor and slowly getting in beside you. 

You shook your head. “I don’t want sex, Dean. I just… I need you.” Your confession took Dean by surprise, his eyebrows shooting up momentarily before he nodded and wrapped his arms around you. You laid on your side mostly, but slotted your leg between his thighs and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. 

Dean kissed your temple and trailed his fingers up your spine. “I’m here.” He promised. 

You nodded and kissed his collarbone. “I love you, Dean.” You whispered carefully. 

Dean tensed at your words, and you knew you’d gone too far, but it was the truth. Gasping in a quick breath, Dean licked his lips. “I love you too.” He sighed. You looked up and met Dean’s eyes as he nodded. “I do. I always have.” He confessed.

“M- me too.” You stuttered, completely taken aback by Dean’s admission.

“I know it might not be the most  _conventional_  thing in the world, but,” Dean’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply through his nose, “I wanna marry you.”

“Dean.” You breathed. “No, you don’t.”

“I do.” He argued. “I always told myself I could never settle down because whoever I found wouldn’t get it. No woman could possibly understand what it meant to be with me. I’d run out in the middle of the night with no explanation other than ‘my brother called.’ Do you know how quickly I’d be accused of being unfaithful?” He scoffed.

“You’re not unfaithful, Dean.” You shook your head. You knew him better than that. Dean might’ve been a sucker for the ladies, but he was a one-woman man.

“No, I’m not. And all those times I tried to settle down? All… two of those times,” he laughed humorlessly, “I couldn’t. Do you know why?” Dean challenged, looking down at you. You shook your head. “Because they weren’t you. My whole life, it was you. You were there when Sam needed you, you were there when I needed you. You were  _always_  there, Y/N.” 

“Always.” You repeated with a little nod. Now that you had Dean - and Sam - back in your life, you didn’t plan on letting them go again. 

Dean nodded. “Always. So, yeah, I want to marry you. And I don’t - I don’t have a ring or anything right now, but…” He licked his lips nervously.

“Yeah, Dean.” You let out a little laugh.

“Really?” His eyes lit up, even in the dark of the night. “You’ll marry me?”

You nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.” Dean tightened his grip on you and crashed his lips to yours.

“Listen, I’m really happy for you,” Sam grumbled, “but can you two  _please_  just go to sleep?”

* * *

You weren’t sure exactly how Dean pulled it off, but he managed to round up every single person who you ever could’ve wanted at your wedding. There weren’t many, but you knew there wouldn’t be considering your line of work. The people who mattered were there, and that’s all you needed.

Dean stood at the front of the courthouse, wearing a brand new suit that Sam insisted he  _actually_  have tailored to fit him. You stepped into the room, your arm linked in Sam’s elbow, and met Dean’s eyes immediately. Dean drew in a long breath at the sight of you. 

Sam walked you down the makeshift aisle and you stood in front of the judge and your few family and friends. Dean slid a silver ring on your finger, and you smiled as you did the same to him. You were legally pronounced husband and wife, under a name other than Winchester, but that didn’t matter. You knew who you were.

You were Dean’s wife. You were Mrs. Dean Winchester, and no matter how many times you’d scribbled that into a notebook as a kid, hearing it out loud, saying your full name followed by  _Winchester_ , felt like you’d actually died and gone to heaven.

The same heaven that one day, you’d find out, you and Dean shared.


End file.
